Juan Luis Guzmán – ONE ACT

within another act, as part of various acts



BOY, birthed from barrio. Enters. 
Summer and so much heat.
Discovery. Young and seedless
grape; before the colors change.








BOY: My street is Sunset Street.

LIFEGUARD: (motions toward the water)
BOY: One time I swallowed a bee.

(Every act is a lie.)

Light: from unknown source on
LIFEGUARD, has the light always
been on? Does it follow her?

             EXT. community pool at
             center stage,
                          barrio kids only; 
                          free swim lessons. 


Cut to: his father’s street, a dead
end, not a thru street. Every sign
tells the same story.

             Back to: grass under BOY’s 
             feet.

Sound cue: birds, a passing car, the
wet of a body entering a body of
wet.

Cut to: el fil, la uva, dead center in a
vineyard row. Dust and heat in all
places. His MOTHER laying down
sheets of thin brown paper; his
FATHER, follows with trays of
grapes, dumping them. The dirt is a
fine, fine powder. 

             Back to: the sensation
             weightless;
             it overcomes his body.
             In water, same as air, he
             floats.

BOY: Are you holding me up?
LIFEGUARD: Those are wet feathers.









BOY: Are you still holding me up?

Sound cue: heartbeat, the echoes of
semi-submerged breath. 
Neither of his parents can swim.




Pan to: BOY’s view from pool, all
blue and clouds. Telephone poles cut
across the sky like crucifixes. 

Off: MOTHER and FATHER and
SPIDERS. Dust prevails. 

             DISSOLVE TO 
             BLACK.